Claudia's Secret
by Piscaria
Summary: A babysitting job brings Ashley back into Claudia's life, and the other BSC members aren't happy about it. ClaudiaAshley.
1. Chapter 1

_Claudia's Secret_, chapter one  
by Piscaria 

"Watch out, Claudia!" Jackie Rodowsky screamed, and I slammed on the brakes of my bike just as a blue Buick slid out of the Rodowsky's driveway and into the street, narrowly missing me. Stoneybrook, Connecticut has its share of bad drivers, but from the frightened face staring at me through the car windows, I knew this wasn't one of them. 

"Shea!" I screamed, dropping the bike and running after running after the car. "Jackie!" 

The car wasn't moving very fast, but with an eleven-year-old driving it, it shouldn't have been moving at all. As I watched, Shea frantically turned the steering wheel, just preventing the car from slamming into the neighbor's mailbox. The car turned towards me again, and I rushed to get out of its way, just as the door to the Rodowski's house swung open and Mrs. Rodowsky dashed out. 

"Oh my God!" she cried. "Boys!" 

The car finally slid to a stop, and Shea stepped out, looking shaken. Jackie followed from the passenger side, in tears. Mrs. Rodowsky opened her arms, and both of the boys ran to hug her. 

"I told you to start the car, not drive it!" she said. "What happened?" 

"Jackie pulled the emergency break!" Shea said. 

"It was an accident!" Jackie protested. 

A lot of accidents happen when Jackie is around. 

Mrs. Rodowsky glanced up, and finally noticed me. "Oh, Claudia!" she said. "Thank goodness you're here early. I'm running a little late, and I asked Shea to warm up the car for me. I didn't realize he'd bring Jackie with him." 

She sounded shaken, but not too mad. The problem with Jackie is that he never _means_ to cause trouble. He just somehow always does. My friends and I call him the Walking Disaster, but not to his face, of course. Aside from his accidents, Jackie is a really sweet kid. With tears running down his face and his cheeks almost as red as his hair (all of the Rodowskys have flaming red hair), Jackie looked so miserable that I couldn't feel upset about nearly getting hit by a car. 

"Claudia," Mrs. Rodowsky said. "Can you bring the boys into the house? I need to get the car back into the driveway." 

I nodded, propping my bike against the fence and picking up the kid kit that I'd dropped when trying to get away from the runaway car. 

"Come on, boys," I said, "Let's go inside where it's safe." Inside the house, I could see their little brother Archie peering through the front window with a frightened expression. 

Jackie and Shea followed me inside, where Archie immediately fell on us with questions. 

"What happened?" he asked. "Were you really driving?" 

"Kind of," Shea said, looking modest. 

I should probably explain that my baby-sitting jobs don't usually start off with this much excitement. These days, I hardly baby-sit at all, even though I still belong to The Baby-sitters Club, which my friend Kristy Thomas thought up. More on that later. I met the Rodowskys through the BSC. In seventh grade, I even sculpted Jackie for a gallery opening! My sculpture won an honorable mention, even though it was just a work in progress. 

Art is my favorite hobby. In fact, you could probably say it's my passion. Art is also the reason why I don't babysit very often these days. I'm in a sculpting class on Saturdays; I'm taking a textile design class with my friend Mary Anne every Wednesday after school; and even though I'm only a freshman, I got special permission to take advanced art with the juniors and seniors. Sadly, art is the only subject I'm good at in school. Most of the time, I'm lucky to get Cs in my classes. In fact, my grades are so bad that I need to stay after school for tutor lab twice a week. 

Of course, with all of that time spent on school and art, I don't have a whole lot of time left for baby-sitting. I still make exceptions for some of my favorite clients like the Rodowskys, though. 

The door opened, and Mrs. Rodowsky stepped inside, still looking frazzled. For the first time, I noticed that she was missing her shoes, and that her silk blouse was mis-buttoned. 

"Claudia," she said. "Could you fix the boys a snack while I finish getting ready? There are some cookies in the cupboard over the fridge. I'm running behind because Jackie somehow managed to get my closet door stuck. Now I'll be lucky to make it to my meeting on time." 

"Sure," I said, and Mrs. Rodowsky disappeared up the stairs. I turned to look at the Rodowski brothers, who were still clustered around the kitchen table looking worried. 

"Do you boys want a snack?" I asked them. They shrugged. "I could probably find some broccoli," I said, trying not to make a face. (I'm not a big fan of health food.) Archie stuck out his tongue, and I laughed. 

"Well, what about some brussel sprouts, then?" Jackie pretended to gag. I leaned back against the counter, scratching my head and pretending to think hard. 

"Well," I said, "There are always the cookies your mom mentioned . . ." 

"Yeah!" Jackie and Archie cried, as I got them down. Shea was too old to get very excited over cookies anymore, but he still sat up and took one when I offered it to him. I poured the boys some milk to go with their cookies, and was just putting the gallon away when Mrs. Rodowsky came back downstairs looking much more presentable. 

"Thank you, Claudia," she said. "You're a lifesaver. I'll be meeting my client downtown; I'll probably be home by five o'clock. The office number is on the fridge along with our emergency contacts." 

"All right," I said. 

"Make sure the boys do their homework, and then they can play. Do you have any questions?" 

I shook my head, and Mrs. Rodowsky hurried off to her meeting. I turned back to the boys, who were finishing their snack. 

"What type of homework do you guys have?" I asked. 

"I need to finish the book we're reading," Shea said. "I should go up to my room to finish it." 

"Okay," I said, and he disappeared up the stairs. Jackie had a sheet of math problems to work on, and Archie needed to finish copying down his spelling words. They decided to work downstairs at the kitchen table. I washed their milk glasses while they did their homework, and hoped that neither of them would need any help. I'm not very good at spelling. Or math. 

Just as I set the last glass in the strainer, the doorbell rang. 

"Were you expecting company?" I asked, drying my hands on a dishtowel. They shook their heads, looking surprised. From upstairs, I could hear Shea coming down to see who it was. 

I shrugged, and answered the door. Ashley Wyeth was standing on the front step, wearing a long, pink skirt, a denim jacket, and her usual hiking boots. Her long, dirty-blonde hair was loose for once, and falling around her shoulders in gentle waves. Beneath it, I could barely catch a glimpse of her earrings. She has _three_ holes in each ear! 

When Ashley first moved to Stoneybrook, she and I were very close. She's an artist too, but she's a lot more serious about it than I am. She even studied at Keyes Institute in Chicago! For awhile, I spent so much time with Ashley that it even jeopardized my relationships with my other friends in the BSC. Fortunately, in the end I realized that Ashley liked me for my talent, not for me. Now, Ashley and I are sometimes-friends. We talk to each other in our art classes, and she sometimes sits with my friends and me at lunch, but we don't really hang out much outside of school. She lives next door to the Rodowskis, though, and I was guessing that she'd seen all of the excitement that happened earlier. 

"Are you all right?" she asked. 

I nodded, leaning against the door jamb. "Jackie accidentally pulled the emergency break while the boys were warming up the car for their mom. Everything's okay, though. Shea managed to stop the car in time, and nobody got hurt." 

Behind me, the boys were craning to get a look at Ashley. I didn't blame them. As long as she's lived next door to them, she was still an unusual sight. She always wears long skirts and puffy peasant blouses, and her long hair is usually twisted into a braid. Then there are all of her earrings, and her hiking boots. I like the way she dresses (I admire creativity), but I understand why other people can be a bit put off by it. Despite her old-fashioned clothes, Ashley is actually very pretty, in a delicate sort of way. If she were friendlier, I bet lots of boys would have crushes on her. Ashley doesn't care much about anything but art, though. 

"I'm glad you're okay," she said. 

"Thanks." We glanced at each other, kind of awkwardly, and then looked away again. That's the trouble with sometimes-friends: you don't always know what to say to them. 

Finally, she gave me a small, quick smile. "I need to go work on my self-portrait," she said. "I'll see you in class tomorrow." (Like me, Ashley takes advanced art with the juniors and seniors). 

"Definitely," I said. 

She nodded shortly, and started back towards her own house. I watched her walk away, and then I turned around. Archie was looking after her with wide eyes, and Shea had an expression that I'd seen before, although not on him. He looked both awed and embarrassed. I pressed my lips together to keep from giggling. 

It seems at least _one_ boy in Stoneybrook had a crush on Ashley! Too bad he was only a sixth-grader. I wondered what my friends would say when I told them. 

"I need to go finish my homework," Shea said shortly, and he started back upstairs. 

"Okay," I said, smiling. I was trying to remember my first crush. Had it been on Pete Black or on Trevor Sandbourne? I've had crushes on so many boys that it was hard to remember. 

Archie was standing uncertainly near the front door, and I glanced down at him. "Did you finish your homework, Archie-roo?" 

He nodded. 

"How about your brother?" I asked. "Hey, wait a second -- where _is_ Jackie?" I realized that I hadn't seen him since Ashley first rang the doorbell. 

Archie and I glanced at each other with wide eyes, and then rushed back towards the kitchen -- but not in time to prevent a loud crash and the sound of breaking glass. When we got there, Jackie was standing by the kitchen sink, and one of the milk glasses was shattered on the floor. 

"I'm sorry!" he said. "I just walked by the strainer, I swear! I just wanted to put my worksheet in my backpack." 

"That's okay," I said. Archie was already gathering up the broom and dustpan. 

We cleaned up the broken glass, and got the boys' homework put away without any further incident. 

"How about a game?" I said. When I sat for the Rodowskys, I normally tried to take the boys outside, away from anything breakable, but today was just a little too cold for it. It was still very early in spring, and even though the snow was gone, the bite of winter was still in the air. I had some board games and puzzles in my kid kit, though, and I didn't think that even Jackie could manage to break them. 

The boys shrugged. "Sure," Jackie said. I handed them my kid kit, and told them to pick out whatever they'd like. Then I went upstairs to see how Shea was doing. 

When I got there, his bedroom door was shut. That was a bit unusual, but I only shrugged. Shea is starting to get to the age where kids want more privacy. Really, he's almost too old for a babysitter. When my friends Mallory and Jessi were eleven, they were already babysitters themselves. 

I knocked on Shea's door. "Shea?" I called, "your brothers and I are going to play a game? Do you want to play too?" 

"No thanks," he called back. "I'm still reading my book." His voice sounded a little strange. I wondered if he was still feeling uncomfortable about Ashley. I decided not to question him, though; I'd have been mortified if a babysitter had asked me about a crush. 

So I just said, "All right. Let me know if you need anything." 

I went back downstairs. Jackie, Archie, and I spent the rest of the afternoon playing Mouse Trap, and fortunately, nothing managed to get broken or lost. Shea stayed upstairs until his mom came home, fifteen minutes after five. 

"I'm sorry I'm late," Mrs. Rodowsky said as she stepped inside the door. "The meeting ran longer than I'd expected, and then I got stuck in traffic. How did everything go?" 

"Not too bad," I said. I told her about the broken glass, but she only shrugged. Mrs. Rodowski is pretty laid back about those kinds of things. She has to be, living with Jackie. 

Mrs. Rodowsky paid me, and I gathered up my kid kit and said goodbye to the boys. Loading my kid kit into the bike basket, I took off towards home. I had my own meeting to go to! 


	2. Chapter 2

_Claudia's Secret_, chatper two  
by Piscaria 

In middle school, the BSC met every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at five thirty sharp. These days, we only meet on Mondays, and we don't take as many calls. 

When I reached home, it was already 5:29. I left my bike in the front yard and bolted inside. I ran up the stairs as fast as I could, through the hallway and past the guest room that used to belong to my sister, Janine. When I reached my own room, though, it was too late -- Kristy Thomas had already started to speak. 

"This meeting of the Baby-sitters Club will come to order," she said, and turned to glare at me. Now that we're in high school, the club isn't as big of a part of our lives as it used to be, but Kristy still takes it pretty seriously. She hates us showing up late to meetings. 

Kristy Thomas is our club's president. She's the one who first thought up the Baby-sitters Club, back in seventh grade. One day, after watching her mom make phone call after phone call trying to find a sitter for her little brother, David Michael, Kristy thought how much easier it would be if her mom could just make one call and get connected to a group of sitters. Thus the Baby-sitters Club was born! 

The club has changed a lot since those days, but Kristy is exactly the same as she always was. She's still short, loud, and bossy, and she still wears her brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her clothes haven't changed much either -- if I didn't know better, I'd swear that she's worn the exact same jeans and turtleneck every single day for the past three years. Kristy's clothes all look the same: boring. 

Now me? My clothes are filled with personality. For instance, on that day I was wearing white jeans with white fringe sewn down the sides, cowboy boots, a red western shirt, a zebra-print vest, and a huge, black cowboy hat. I had a clay cactus earring that I'd made in my left ear; my right ear held a tiny turquoise stud and a real peacock feather. I'd braided a white ribbon into my long, black hair. 

Kristy was still glaring at me for being late to the meeting, so I started to apologize. 

"I'm sorry," I gasped, trying to catch my breath. "I got here as fast as I could. I was sitting for the Rodowskys. Mrs. Rodowsky got off to a late start, though, and she didn't get home until after five." Quickly, I filled them in on what had happened at the Rodowsky's house that afternoon. 

Mary Anne paled. "Oh no!" she said. "What if the boys had gotten hurt?" 

"It's okay," I said. "The car wasn't moving very fast, and the Rodowskys live on a quiet street. Even if Shea _had_ hit something, I don't think they would have gotten hurt." 

Mary Anne frowned, not looking quite convinced. It didn't surprise me that she was worried: Mary Anne is one of the most sensitive people I know. She's also very shy -- that's the reason we're taking a textile design class together this year. Mary Anne likes to sew and knit, so she was thrilled to learn that a local fabric store was offering classes. She was too afraid to go by herself, though. Mary Anne knew that Kristy would never agree to take a quilting class, and Stacey wasn't interested in fabric or sewing. So instead, Mary Anne approached me. 

She pointed out that women have traditionally used quilts to express their creativity. For years, quilting was one of the only art forms open to most women! That caught my attention -- I'm crazy about anything to do with art. Plus, I realized that learning more about sewing wouldn't be a bad thing. A lot of my clothes are pieces that I've found in thrift stores and altered. I'd sewn the fringe onto my jeans, for instance, and I've been known to go crazy with fabric dye and sequins. I realized that the more I knew about sewing, the more unique my clothes could be. 

So far, Mary Anne is still a lot better at sewing than I am, but her clothes aren't as unique. If clothes express your personality, then Mary Anne's express hers perfectly: quiet, with a subtle hint of flare. Today, she was wearing a flared, gray twill skirt, a white turtleneck, black tights, and black knee-length boots that laced up the front, like something out of the Victorian era. I was amazed her father had let her buy those boots. Mr. Spier is _very_ conservative, and very strict. They looked good on Mary Anne, though. Smart, but stylish. 

The last member of our club, Stacey McGill, is my best friend. Her style (and her personality) can be summed up in one word: sophisticated. Maybe it's because she's from New York City. Stacey is tall and thin, and her mom lets her perm her shoulder-length blonde hair. Today, she was dressed all in black. A baggy black sweater flicked with silver specks, a short black skirt, black tights, silver ankle warmers, and black ballet flaps. She wore a black beret on her head, and huge silver hoops in her ears. She looked fabulous -- and very grown up. 

I crossed the room to sit by Stacey on the bed. Reaching around her, I fished underneath my pillow for a second until my hand closed around a package of licorice. I offered some to Kristy and Mary Anne, and found the package of rice cakes that I'd bought for Stacey (she's diabetic). Stacey took one, but she didn't seem that interested in eating it. 

"Can you believe it?" she said. "Shea Rodowsky is only eleven-years-old, and he already got to drive a car! I can't wait until I get my license." 

"It won't be long," I said. "We can get our learner's permits in the fall." 

"Sam and I have been watching the classifieds for car ads," Kristy said. "I want to get an old junker and fix it up. Watson said he'd buy it for me, as long as I paid for my own gas." 

"He's buying you a car?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised -- Kristy's stepdad, Watson, could definitely afford a car, especially a junker. He's a millionaire who lives in a huge mansion on the other side of town. He and Kristy's mom have tried really hard not to spoil Kristy and her brothers, though -- or Watson's two kids, Karen and Andrew, for that matter. 

But Kristy just shrugged. "Sam is going away to college next year," she said. "I'm going to need some way to get across town for meetings." Kristy's brother, Sam, is a senior at SHS. He drives her across town for meetings and back. 

Stacey frowned, looking sad. She'd had an on-again, off-again crush on Sam Thomas since she moved to Stoneybrook in seventh grade. I knew she wasn't happy to think about him leaving, even though she had a different boyfriend now -- a sophomore named Nathan Mackaroy. 

"I'm not sure if my parents will buy me a car," she said. "I've hinted about it, but they just say, 'we'll see.'" She sighed, shaking her fluffy blonde hair out of her face. "Are you getting a car, Claudia?" 

"I don't know," I said. "My parents got an old Volvo for Janine to drive to the community college. She didn't take it with her when she left for MIT. Maybe I'll get to drive it." 

I wasn't exactly excited about the possibility -- the Volvo looked like something you'd expect my sister, Janine, to pick out. It was a boxy, gray car that supposedly had excellent safety ratings. Boring and practical, that's Janine. Now if I'd picked out a car, I'd have asked for a Volkswagen beetle in a fun color, like purple or green. If I _had_ to take a Volvo, I would have at least painted it something besides gray. Maybe I'd paint flowers on it, or bubbles, like in _The Muppet Movie._

Mary Anne bit her lip, looking down at her hands. "I wonder if Dad's going to let me drive at all," she said. 

That sobered all of us for a second. Mary Anne's dad is a bit of a control freak. He's very serious, and very strict. For the longest time, he wouldn't even let Mary Anne pick out her own clothes -- he made her wear babyish skirts and blouses, and he made her wear her hair in braids. Mr. Spier had gotten a lot more relaxed since he married our friend Dawn's mom. Mary Anne is allowed to pick out her own clothes now, and she's even cut her hair and pierced her ears. But he's still stricter than the rest of our parents. I honestly couldn't imagine him letting Mary Anne behind the wheel of a car. From the looks on their faces, Kristy and Stacey couldn't picture it either. 

"Even if he doesn't let you drive, the rest of us will be able to," Kristy said finally. "I could take you anyplace you needed to go." 

Mary Anne sniffed, glancing up at Kristy. "Really?" she asked. 

Kristy's face softened. She's very protective of Mary Anne sometimes -- the two of them have been best friends since we were all little kids. "Of course," she said. "What are friends for?" 

Mary Anne managed a watery smile. "Thanks Kristy," she said. 

"Besides," Stacey said, "we've still got six months before we need to worry about it. We can't get our learner's permits until we're fifteen and-a-half." 

The phone rang, interrupting our thoughts about driving. Mary Anne was closest to it, but since she was still sniffling, Stacey reached around her to pick it up. 

"Hello, Babysitters Club," she said. "Oh, hi Mr. Rodowsky! This Friday? Okay, just a second, let me find out who's available, and then I'll call you back, okay?" 

Stacey hung up the phone, and turned to look at us. "The Rodowskys need a sitter for Friday evening," she said. "Can anybody take it?" 

Mary Anne was already flipping through the record book. "Let's see," she said. "Stacey, you're free. And Claudia, so are you." 

"You can have it, Stace," I offered immediately. I like the Rodowski boys, but one close call with a car was enough for me this week. 

Stacey laughed, as if she knew what I was thinking. She probably did -- we've been best friends for three years now. 

"Okay," she said chivalrously. "I'll take it." 

Mary Anne wrote Stacey's name down in the record book, while Stacey called Mr. Rodowski back to tell him she'd take the job. 

"You can start driver's ed early," Kristy said when Stacey hung up the phone. "I'm sure Shea could teach you a few things!" 

We all laughed, but Mary Anne looked kind of sad. "I can't believe he was driving," she said. "Well, kind of driving, at least. Doesn't it seem like all of our clients are growing up?" 

We all fell silent for a moment. In a way, it was true. One of our longest-running clients, Jamie Newton, had just started kindergarten, and if Shea Rodowsky were the baby-sitting type, we might even be considering him for membership in our club. It was kind of amazing, really. Sometimes, I feel like I spent twenty years in eight-grade. It was strange to realize that I was in high school now, and that our clients were getting older. Mary Anne looked ready to cry, though, so I decided to change the subject. 

"Speaking of growing up," I said, "I think Shea has a crush on someone." 

"No, really?" Stacey said, her eyes widening. "Who?" 

"Ashley Wyeth," I said, wondering, as I spoke, whether I should have stayed quiet about it. Ashley and I didn't spend much time together anymore, but she was still kind of a sore subject for the BSC. 

Sure enough, Stacey started to giggle. "Ashley Wyeth!" she said. "Oh, Shea! I wish he knew enough to pick somebody pretty." 

"Ashley's pretty!" I protested. 

Stacey glanced at me apologetically. "I'm sorry, Claud," she said. "I know you two are friends. But she wears bell bottoms to school." 

"She _used_ wears bell bottoms," I said. "She hasn't in almost a year. And she is pretty. She's got great features, and her eyes are this really amazing shade of gray." 

The other club members were staring at me. Mary Anne gave a small smile. "If I didn't know better, I'd think that _you_ had a crush on Ashley," she said. 

I turned beet red. Mary Anne was only joking, I knew that, but her jab hit a bit too close to home. The truth is, sometimes I look back at that first month Ashley spent in Stoneybrook, when the two of us were joined at the hip, and I wonder if I _did_ have a bit of a crush on her. It wasn't serious, I know. I've had lots of crushes on boys, and two or three times, I even thought I was in love. It wasn't like that with Ashley. I hadn't daydreamed about seeing her, or doodled her name on my class notes, or felt like I was walking on air around her, like I had with some of my more serious crushes. She'd been a friend and a fellow artist. That was all. Except . . . 

Sometimes I think back to the first day I saw her in my English class. She'd been so small and fragile in her pink skirt and embroidered blouse. I couldn't stop looking at her during that class. A few times, I'd caught her shooting glances at me as well. I hadn't known she was an artist then. I hadn't even spoken to her. Something about her had drawn me to her, though, even when all of my friends got angry because of it. Ashley understood a part of me that nobody else ever has, not even Stacey. Ashley made me see the world in a completely different way. I loved that. To be honest, sometimes I miss it. 

Every now and then, I wonder what would have happened if Ashley and I had stayed close. Would I still be a part of the BSC? It always scared me to think about that. I couldn't imagine losing Stacey, Kristy, and Mary Anne. I remind myself how friends, real friends, support all aspects of each other's lives. Ashley hadn't supported me when it came to school, or babysitting, or my other friends. I would have missed out on a lot if I'd given up my friendships with the other three BSC members for Ashley. At the same time, though, I sometimes wondered how fair it was that I'd needed to give up what I had with Ashley to stay with the BSC. 

I wasn't about to say all that to Mary Anne, though. So when she made that crack about me having a crush on Ashley, I just blushed, and laughed, like I thought it was funny. 

"Nope," I said. "I've got a crush on Ryan Anderson." 

"Who's he?" Stacey asked, looking surprised. Usually, she was the first person to hear about all of my crushes. 

"He's in my math class," I said. "He's a junior. He plays the guitar. Isn't that romantic?" 

Kristy rolled her eyes, but Stacey and Mary Anne looked intrigued. 

"Are you going to ask him to Tolo next month?" Mary Anne asked. 

"Maybe," I said. I hadn't thought that far ahead. Ryan was cute, and definitely crush-worthy, but I wasn't sure I was ready to ask him to a dance. 

"You should," Stacey said. 

The meeting lasted for a few more minutes, and we lined up a few more sitting jobs. That's what our meetings are like these days -- low key and fun. That's how I like it. We talked a little bit more about the dance, but Ashley's name didn't come up again. I was kind of relieved. 


End file.
